


Just Have to Wait

by Jay_Wells



Series: The Odd Life of Alexander Hamilton [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Homoromantism, Hypersexualisation, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Lebanese Civil War, M/M, Navel-Gazing, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, Suicidal Thoughts, U.S. Army, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6708382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Wells/pseuds/Jay_Wells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't hurry love<br/>No, you just have to wait<br/>She said love don't come easy<br/>It's a game of give and take<br/>[The Supremes, "You Can't Hurry Love"]</p><p>Alexander's romantic attempts, with mixed results.<br/>(tags and relationships will be added with each new chapter.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kitty

“Kid, look,” the woman said, “you’re cute, but you’re definitely jailbait. Why don’t you just wait until you’re older? This is a grown-up game.”

Alexander had been in America for six weeks, and his roommate Robert had teased him non-stop for having never had a girlfriend. Tonight he decided to go out to the club and find one, except this was the _fifth_ time he’d been rejected for being “jailbait.” He didn’t even know what that meant, and when he tried to ask Robert, who was already well on his way to being drunk, he'd toppled out of his barstool laughing. So he had to assume he looked like trouble -- were his jeans too worn, or was it that he hadn't had a haircut in weeks? He tried to appear non-threatening, even smiling way more than usual, but nothing seemed to be working. Frustrated, he moaned, “What are you talking about? I’ve never committed a crime in my life. I know I don’t look the most straight-laced, but I swear I don’t do drugs or drink or steal.”

“Do you know what jailbait means, sport?” She was hardly looking at him, instead focusing on a compact mirror and reapplying her pink lipstick and rolling her eyes. “I don’t doubt you’re a good kid -- you seem very sweet thus far, but no way are you even close to eighteen. Does your mama know you’re out?”

“My mama knows exactly where I am.” Alexander fumed. It was close enough to the truth. “Besides, I’m old enough to look after myself -- I’m seventeen!”

She looked dubious. “Really? Can you prove that?”

He pulled out his wallet and showed her his student ID, covering the exact day with his thumb. “See? It’s August now. I’ll be eighteen in four months.”

“That changes things, I suppose.” She readjusted herself so that she was facing him cross-legged on the booth. “So, Alexander. My name is Kitty, and I’ll be twenty in two months. Why don’t you tell me what you like to do?”

“Uh,” he stammered a bit now, trying to think of something cool that he enjoyed. “I like to read.  Uh, like _Carrie_ and _Treasure Island_ and Shakespeare. Anything, really -- especially military history. My favorite poet is Alexander Pope. My mom had this huge book of his poems and we read them together before bed." _Oh, Jesus, that's dorky._  "What do you like to do?”

“I like music. I played the trumpet in high school: marching, concert, jazz, you name it.” She flipped her brown hair. It was teased so that it didn’t quite reach her bare shoulders. A popular song started to play over the speakers and she grinned broadly. “I like dancing -- wanna give it a try?”

Alexander stood up and held out his hand for her to take. As he pulled her up, she laughed. “A gentleman, are we? I like that.”

He really didn’t know how to dance, so he settled for watching her while he swayed to the beat stiffly. Her hair and beads bounced, and the muscles in her abdomen moved fluidly. It was fascinating to watch. After the first song, he started to copy her, bobbing his head and swinging his hips along. By the fifth or sixth song, he managed to dance without embarrassing himself.

 

* * *

 

 

“What are you studying?” she asked later while they were getting drinks -- whiskey for her, water for him. Her eyes were closed and she was still bobbing her head.

He sipped his water, praying he didn’t look like a dork for not ordering something harder, especially when Kitty was drinking whiskey. He remembered the stuff his Da used to put down back on Nevis. “Pre-law. Back home, my mom really got screwed by somebody who had some high-profile lawyers. They sued her business for false advertising. He didn't have anything real against, just a grudge, but his lawyer spun stuff around and questioned you so fast you forgot what you were talking about. I don't want to see someone else go through that, y'know? If you're persistent and you know your stuff, you'll win ninety percent of the time.” 

“And that’s what you want? To win?” Kitty leaned forward, and he could smell the whiskey on her breath. He leaned back.

“I’m tired of losing.” His hands were starting to shake and he set down his glass before he dropped it. “What about you?”

“Music education.” They were in a booth and she was practically on his lap, her empty glass on the table. This should have felt good, but the situation was all wrong. “Alex,” she slurred, “you have beautiful eyes. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Kitty’s mouth was on his then, one hand against his cheek. It almost felt good, but when her tongue was in his mouth, he could taste the whiskey. He pulled back so violently that he banged his head off the booth. His breaths were fast and shallow in a way that had nothing to do with the kiss.

“Sorry -- I -- ”

“What’s wrong?” She looked hurt before her expression morphed to mortification. “Oh, God, I -- ”

“It’s fine -- just -- I’ll be back -- ” Alexander hurried to the bathroom and got into a stall before he started retching over the toilet. It went on for about five minutes. When he was done, he stood up off the grubby floor and flushed the toilet. He splashed his face with water.

A man in a jean jacket and tight pants chuckled at him. “Whatchu puttin’ down, brother?”

“Nothing.” Regardless, Alexander felt ashamed. He had no idea what had brought that on, and now Kitty probably thought that was how he was all the time. He really blew it -- the only girl who showed any interest in him, and he screwed it up. He’d be surprised if she was still there when he got back.

She was, and she scrambled to stand when she saw him. “God, Alex, I am so, so sorry. I had no idea that would happen.” Kitty’s eyes were brimming with tears. “Oh, man, I fucked up. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t you,” he said, a little dazed at her concern. “I didn’t know that would happen either. I do want to kiss you, but maybe could it be some other time when you aren’t drinking?”

“Of course, Alex.” She hugged him carefully.

He hugged back. “Hey, did you come here with a friend?”

“No. Why?” she asked.

“You’re drunk. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go home alone.” he glanced around the bar. “And I need to get my roommate home soon. He’s got afternoon classes tomorrow, but he’s gonna need time to sleep it off.”

“Okay,” she said. “You know, you’re really sweet.”

 

* * *

 

 

Around noon the following day, Robert rolled out of bed to see Alexander writing at the desk. “Hey, man, saw you dancing with a girl last night. I guess she likes ‘em young.”

“Shut up, asshole.” Alexander threw a notebook at him. “All I had to do was show her my student I.D.” He spun the chair around and almost knocked it over. A loud shriek of protest emitted from the wooden floor. Robert winced at the sound. "You could've given me a warning about the 'jailbait' thing."

“Sheesh, sorry, man, but that was funny, you gotta admit.”

“I have to admit nothing.”

He snickered. "Sure you do. Besides, how's it my fault you have a baby-face."

"I do not." Alexander crossed his arms over his chest.

Robert rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, what happened?”

“Her name’s Kitty. She’s nineteen years old -- ” he groaned as Robert cooed, “Ooooh!” at him “ -- and she’s majoring in music. We talked a little bit about books and our majors. She wanted to dance, so we danced, and she kissed me.”

“Oh, Jesus, Alex, why didn’t you just start with that?” Robert leaned forward, eyes bright. “Details -- spare none.”

“Well, she was drunk, and I ran to throw up in the bathroom.” He winced as he said it.

Robert gave him a funny look like he was trying to check if he was joshing or not. “Seriously? What did you drink?”

“Nothing!” Alexander ran a hand through his hair -- it was in need of a haircut, but he couldn’t afford one this month. “Why do people ask me that? I drank water.”

“Chill,” he said. “Sorry about the luck, mate. There’ll be others.”

“Actually, she gave me her number.” He rolled up his sleeve to show where she’d scrawled her number when he dropped her off. “After I hurled and everything. I mean, I didn’t tell her I blew chunks, but I did kind of shove her off in a panic and run off for a few minutes. But, y’know.”

“Damn, you have game if you salvaged that one, you little fuck.” Robert tossed his pillow at him. “Wingman for me next time.”

“You don’t need a wingman, you need a babysitter.” Alexander deflected the pillow.

 

* * *

 

 

The next few weeks were nice. Kitty didn’t try to kiss him again, which relieved him somewhat. He really didn’t want that reaction again, and he wasn’t sure what caused it. It was embarrassing, and he felt guilty from time to time like he was holding out on her.

They went to see the last drive-in movie of the season in her car -- a double feature of _Raiders of the Lost Arc_ and _Chariots of Fire_ \-- and at the beginning of the first movie, Kitty rested her hand on his inner thigh and kept it there for the whole movie. Alexander was very aware of it, but he didn’t feel anxious. There was no adverse reaction. He experimented with this a little bit and slid his arm her waist halfway through the film, and she responded by laying her head against his chest. During intermission, they slid into the backseat.

“You sure about this, Alex?” Her brown eyes glinted in the darkness. “I can wait as long as you need … ”

“I’m sure,” he said definitively.

She nodded.

Alexander sat there for an uncomfortable moment, not quite sure what to do. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and brought his mouth to hers. Her arms went around his neck and pulled him down to her. His teeth clinked against hers, and he winced.

She laughed. “That’s cool.”

This time, he felt her lips on his own. They were soft and moved against his, and it felt good this time.

Kitty was gentle, and never did anything without checking with him first. Honestly, Alexander didn’t think he could hope for more from her, but her patience still made him feel guilty. Guys were supposed to put out, and he had even made the offer yet. It made him nervous, so early. He didn’t feel ready. What if he got her pregnant? They were still in school, and unmarried. He could fuck up so bad. Robert waived his concerns, saying it was unlikely if they used contraception.

“I mean, you don’t have to, but, like, it’s no big deal,” he had said. 

Still, he worried he was being unfair to her.

 

* * *

 

That October he bought a box of condoms and stuck one in his wallet like he'd seen his classmates do. He went out to the diner with her, and they went back to her apartment.

At the door, she waited. “You wanna come in?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He followed her to her room.

They kissed first, but Alexander found he was unable to enjoy it in anticipation of what was coming next. Eventually, Kitty started to slide off her shirt, and Alexander followed suit. He was tense, and he didn’t know why. Looking at her in her bra and shirt, she was undeniably beautiful, and he was growing fond of her. He was definitely reacting positively. Yet he couldn’t seem to relax and enjoy it. He wondered if something was wrong with him, or maybe this was what it was like for everyone and he was just being a wimp.

Kitty noticed his nerves. “Hey, Alex, we’re not in a funeral home -- you don’t have to be dead silent. Speaking of which, I’m thinking of having an open casket … remains to be seen.”

“Heh.” It was weak and breathy, but he felt a little better for the laugh. Kitty kept it up with the jokes until they were both in their underwear. His hands still trembled as he reached for his waistband. He could hear his pulse in his ears. 

Kitty reached out and put her hands on his. “Alex, stop. Come here.”

He scooted toward the center of the bed and Kitty adjusted both of them so that she reclined against her pillows and his head rested on her breast. She stroked his hair. “What’s up, Alex? You’ve been weird all evening. At dinner you barely spoke a word, you didn’t touch your food -- and you usually eat like it’s your last meal. Then you were jumpy all the way home. And when we were making out, you didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself. Now, look at you: you’re shakin’, babe.” She kissed his forehead. “You’re a good kid, but you’re breaking my heart right. What’s wrong? Do you not want to do this? It’s okay to not want it.”

Alexander let out a short sigh. “I just don’t get why I’m so nervous. It’s not that I don’t want -- I just don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“If it’s any consolation, I am not at all offended. You’re not ready, so don’t force yourself. We’re all ready in our own time.” she said. “Now, get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

Alexander woke up and found her making pancakes in the kitchen, wearing her bra and a pair of oversized pajama pants. “Used to belong to my last boyfriend. Word of advice: if you give a girl your clothes, don’t expect them back. Even if you break up.”

“‘Kay.” He sat down.

She placed a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Hungry?”

“Starving, thanks.” He dug in.

“Then don’t eat like a bird at dinner,” she teased. “Your clothes are in the dryer. I figured you’d want them washed. If you want to leave before they’re ready, I’ve had a few boyfriends, and I stole clothes from all of them. I could send your real clothes along later. We’ll talk after breakfast. I ate while you were sleeping.”

“Sorry,” he apologized.

Kitty wrinkled her nose. “No prob, seemed like you needed it.”

After he wolfed down his pancakes, Kitty took his plate to the sink to be washed and sat back down across from him.

“O.K. First off, I never want to see you push yourself like you did last night again. If you don’t want it, I don’t want it. My rule of thumb and you should make it yours.” She was tapping out a ditty on the table. “Second, I don’t think this relationship is going to do you any good. See, I feel like you feel pressured to have sex with me, and frankly that’s terrifying. I’m afraid one day I’m not gonna catch you, and we’re gonna go all the way, and then you’ll regret it. I _do not_ want that. For anybody, but especially not you. I hope one day, you’ll do this same thing for someone else.” She paused, waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she continued. “I’m cool with being friends if you are because you are great to hang with, and if you want a make-out buddy or a date for something, I'm up for it, so long as you do the same. But no presuure. On either of us. That clear?”

“Yeah,” he rasped. The dumping was not fun, but he appreciated the sentiment. “I’d like to be friends.”

“Good.” She smiled and patted him on the back.

He decided to wait for his clothes to dry, and they watched _Carrie_ while they waited.

On his way out the door, he said, “Why do ghosts like elevators? Because they lift their spirits.”

Kitty burst into a fit giggles. “Dork.”

It was a good word to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only chapter that's going to be particularly explicit, and that's because I wanted to focus on the discomfort of being in a relationship where you feel like you're obliged to have sex. I know Hamilton was known as a ladies' man, but Mr. Miranda and history both say that he's also deeply insecure. Historically, his relationship with Kitty went on for eight years on-and-off and never got far beyond flirting. Plus, his mother married Lavien when she was sixteen and had a kid, and ended up trapped in an abusive marriage for five years and his parents had a weird one, so I think just starting out, he'd want a little breathing room. 
> 
> In this AU, Hamilton is the son of a black woman and a white man. Because society sees anyone with any black heritage as simply black, Hamilton would be viewed as black. Black men (and Latino men) are very hypersexualized (whereas Asian men are de-sexed). Men are expected to want sex all of the time. As a young black man, he might pressured to have sex, even if he wasn't interested, especially with an attractive and willing partner. I wanted to talk about that, so this chapter is very physical.
> 
> If anyone was wondering:  
> Kitty (Livingston): October 14, 1961 (1752, historically)  
> Alexander: January 11, 1964 (1755, historically)  
> Robert (Troup): August 14, 1964 (1756 ^ -- I aged him up)
> 
> The "jailbait" thing is based on the fact that Hamilton (see him here, at eighteen: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/da/Young_alexander_hamilton.jpg) looked about twelve when he was eighteen. Also, he met Kitty historically because he lived in her dad's house, and he used the year 1757 as his birth year, which would have made him fifteen-going-on-sixteen while she was twenty.


	2. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing explicit about this chapter. It is 80% navel contemplation.

Alexander had arrived in Lebanon two days ago, and he was ambivalent about it. The General had been nice, but he had a sickeningly patronizing way of talking to him as if he were a child. When he told the General he was eighteen, the man looked at like he was a liar. Alexander was convinced that was why he was assigned a desk job, which really wasn’t fair when Gilbert Lafayette was no older than sixteen. Jack Washington didn’t look anything like the General, but he was clearly the General’s son -- beyond the shared name, he had the same air about him, and the General kept giving the young man worried glances. McHenry and Laurens were the oldest two, at twenty and nineteen, respectfully, were both pre-med students. McHenry was from Philadelphia and Laurens came from South Carolina, the most southern born of the group but one. Alexander felt rather smug that he put up with the heat better than the rest.

They had finished their trek for the day and Laurens wasn’t looking too good. Alexander sat down next to him. “Hey, you gonna die on us?”

“No,” Laurens snarled. “God, kid, why are you so chipper all the time?”

“Gee, man, just checking in on you.” He held his hands up. “And didn’t you say your birthday was a few months back? That makes you what, nine months older than me, so don’t call me ‘kid.’ Besides, you’ve known for, like, two days. How do you know I’m ‘chipper all the time’?”

“I’m not nineteen. Eighteen. I said I’ll  _ be  _ nineteen in a month.” Laurens’ face was a sickly pale colour, and he opened his canteen and started drinking. He drank quite a bit. Alexander wanted to tell him not to use up all the water in case there wasn’t more for a while, but that might not go over well. “Why don’t you tell me how old you  _ really _ are? I won’t tell the General. I’m curious -- you can’t be a day over fifteen.”

Alexander wasn’t sure whether to be bitchy about it or not. “Eighteen, last month. Unlike you, I don’t lie about my age. What, you thought you’d look cooler?”

“None of your business, and I told you that I said I’d  _ be  _ nineteen,” he said. Then he sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “Look, why don’t we stop now. I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“Sorry for getting defensive, I guess.” Now that Laurens had hydrated, he looked better. A lot better. He had short, dark hair that was mussed from his green bandana and clear skin. Alexander wasn’t new to boys being attractive, but he knew the army’s policy on gay soldiers. “So, Laurens, am I correct in guessing you aren’t very outdoorsy.”

“Oh, I’m outdoorsy, just not walk-ten-miles-with-half-my-bodyweight-on-my-back outdoorsy.” Laurens slipped his pack off. “How are you handling this so well?”

“I’m not. This is killing my kidney.” Alexander grinned, hoping it didn’t come out as a grimace. Because while he hadn’t straight up  _ lied _ about his health, he may have forgotten one tiny detail. “Also, I hate mosquitos. They could go extinct for I care, but -- they won’t.” He leaned forward. “I’m pretty sure they’re God’s punishment.”

“What makes you think God would do that?” Laurens grinned. “Could an all-loving God truly be so cruel? Mosquitos are the bane of the Earth.”

“You bet.” Alexander pulled out his canteen and sipped slowly. He wasn’t sure when the next refill would be. “And God’s shit. I think he … I don’t know, but there wouldn’t be so much suffering if he was kind. Maybe he’s not cruel, maybe there’s just nothing to be done. We don’t know how powerful he is.”

“That’s blasphemy.” Laurens’ brow furrowed. “Really, though, even if the hiking’s causing you pain, you aren’t dying from the heat.”

“Huh.” He stretched, feeling his shoulders crack. “I’m used to it. Where I was born, this was a cool day. Sixty degrees? Please.”

“I thought you were from New York.”

“Currently.”

 

It didn’t get much easier. The heat was never a problem, and they were in the coolest month of the year, but it was the rainy season. They stopped twice a day to change their socks. It wasn’t enough to prevent blisters, and the mosquitos were everywhere. His one solace was finding nests of mosquito eggs and squishing them.

“Lieutenant, those are living creatures.” The General admonished every time he caught him, though he didn’t sound particularly invested in the mosquito's plight, so Alexander kept up his pillaging.

“Scum of the Earth is what they are.”

 

In the evenings after they set up camp, he huddled under his tarp with Laurens. 

“Why do hate mosquitos so much?” he asked him one night.

He shrugged. “Tale as old as time my friend. We both need the same thing to survive.” 

“Somehow I think there’s a story there.” Laurens said pointedly.

“Somehow I think there’s a story behind a pre-med student going off to war.” he countered.

“I could say the same about a lawyer.”

 

Alexander took a second semester off school to continue serving. Over the added time, he and Laurens got closer and looser-lipped with their pasts.

“I’m not going to be pre-med when I get back to school,” Laurens once confessed.

Alexander elbowed him in the ribs teasingly. “Can’t handle the gore?”

“No. My father wants me to go to business school. He says it’s my duty as the oldest son to take over the business.” He studied his broken fingernails. “I hate business. Just so you know.”

“I had somebody who wanted me to go to business school, take over the business.”

“An uncle?” Laurens layed his sleeping mat down under the tarp. “My uncle joins forces with my dad sometimes.”

“Nah,” Alexander replied lightly. “My old boss. He said I’d be a great partner with some education and experience under my belt. Never seemed to want to pay me enough to get one though.”

“Hm. At least my dad’s paying for it. I don’t have my own money, or a job. I never really needed one.” Laurens sounded embarrassed of that fact. “My dad wanted me to focus on education.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good father.”

 

It was June when Alexander came to a realisation. 

They were on the outskirts of a village when he heard a rustling behind him. He whipped around. There was a Lebanese girl, no more than six, with a small stone in her hand. She had an expression of terror on her face. Alexander was unsure how to signal that he meant no harm. He put his gun down and crouched in front of her, but she only cringed away. Behind him, he heard stomping and froze. It sounded like thick-soled boots -- not the rebels, then. They didn’t have good boots. 

“Hamilton? How long does it take to -- oh, hey there.” Laurens’ voice became gentler upon noticing the child, and he nearly cooed the last words. He lowered his gun carefully, telegraphing his every move. The girl didn’t take her eyes off him.

Laruens rustled in his bag for a moment and retrieved his chocolate ration. “Ham, y’think our little friend would like some chocolate?”

“I bet she does.” Alexander joined Laurens in offering the girl his ration, mimicking his gentle expression. She still looked wary, but she lowered the stone clutched in her small fist.

She cautiously took Laurens’ and sniffed it. Her face brightened upon realizing what the gift was, and she nibbled delicately. Then she slid it into her dress pocket and took Alexander’s, her eyes flicking nervously between them.  _ “Chokran.” _

After both bars were tucked away, she repeated the phrase a few more times before scampering off. Laurens watched her with a look that was wistful and sweet. 

“My sister, Martha, is just a few years older than that girl.”

Alexander turned to him in mild surprise. “You got a sister?”

“Yeah,” he said, “and a brother.”

“Me too.”

Laurens expression was tender and loving.

Alexander was in love.

  
  


It wasn’t until August that he did anything. He’d written Aaron Burr, a fellow law student he met when applying to Princeton. Burr told him not to do anything. 

“Wait, Alexander. Times  _ will _ change,” he wrote.

Alexander hated nothing more than waiting. He’d been testing Laurens for a few months now, and he thought the interest might be mutual. Nothing would change if he didn’t take a chance. 

The opportunity presented itself while the General was making a supply run with Washington and McHenry. Lafayette was sleeping. It was the dry season, so there was no need for a tarp, and Laurens was sitting bootless by a stream and leaning against a rock. Alexander felt his heart beating faster as he approached his spot and sat down.

“Hey.” Laurens said. “Ready to tell me why you hate mosquitos like they killed your dog or something?”

Alexander winced involuntarily at that. He leaned in until his cheek was on Laurens shoulder. “Might be. Depends.”

“On what?” Laurens’ eyes were wide. Alexander tried not to stiffen -- oh, God, he was going to find out and then not be okay with it. His army career would be over.  _ Stupid. _

He tilted his head up. “On whether you’re going to hate me after what I’m about to do, and whether I’m still allowed to be here.”

“Okay?”

Now. Alexander kissed Laurens on the corner of the mouth, and waited for the reaction.

“Um, wow, I guess.” Laurens didn’t even blink. “If I’m being honest, I thought you might be gay, but, um, I kinda thought you were into Lafayette.”

Alexander burst out laughing so hard he felt tears spring to his eyes. “That was anti-climatic as  _ fuck. _ And you thought me and Lafayette were -- ?”

“Sorry?” Laurens shrugged, shifting a little. “Lafayette practically serenaded you the other day. And he wants to talk to you all the time. You didn’t get mad, so I thought it was mutual? You guys start off in French or something all the time, so I figured y’all were talking about your undying love or something. I mean, I  _ could’ve _ listened in, but that’s kinda an invasion of privacy.” He moved back a little from him, and Alexander felt his chest tighten, just a little. “I like you, too, but I -- my dad would be pissed, and don’t want to alienate him anymore than he already is from me.” He pushed him away carefully. “And I don’t really think I can do the kissing thing, at least not now? Like, I guess you’re … um cute, but  _ ugh.  _ Gross.” His eyes widened a bit in panic. “Not you! Kissing; I just can’t.”

“If you don’t want it, I don’t want it.” Alexander said. “We can talk about this tonight? I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Laurens relaxed slightly. “John. If we’re going to do this, call me John.”

“You can call me Alex.” Alexander jolted when he realised what John just said. “Hold on. So -- we  _ are  _ ‘doing this’?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” John flashed him a shaky, but cheeky smile. “No hurry.”

 

It was a lights-out night, so they had to keep it in whispers. 

John was lying next to him on his bedroll. “Wanna know why I joined the army?”

His tone said he wasn’t going to like the answer. “Why?”

“To die.” It was said so quietly, Alexander had to strain to hear. “My father hates that I’m studying medicine, he hates my friends, and he really hates that I can’t get my shit together. I thought a dead hero would be better than a living disappointment.”

“I don’t think he wants that,” he said. “I don’t think any half-decent parent would want that.”

John sighed. “I think he might find me more trouble than I worth. I wouldn’t blame him. I told you I had a brother?”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I used to have two. Jemmy and Harry.” A sharp breath. “And I’m the reason Jemmy’s not around any more.”

_ A pile of boards that used to be the carpenters’. It’s not moving. _

“He came to live with me in England while I was at pre-med. He was seventeen, a real daredevil. Thought he was invincible.”

_ “Jem? Are you under there?” _

“I went out one day. It was a bad one, and I started wondering if I should bother coming back. I can’t do anything right -- you wouldn’t know how it is, you never fucked up bad as me.”

_ “It’s a good thing we had stone walls -- it’s just too bad he wasn’t so lucky.” _

_ “You’re wrong! I’ll find him.” _

“But I came back, because I remembered Jemmy. He needed me.”

_ “I’m sorry, son. There’s nobody with that name on our lists.” _

“While I was gone, he tried to climb the gutter to sit on the roof. He fell from the second story onto the asphalt.”

_ “He’s gone, don’t you understand? You have to move on with your life. You’ve a bright future ahead of you.” _

“Jemmy died later that afternoon.” John sounded existentially exhausted. “If I’d been home to tell him no -- ”

“He would’ve tried anyway,” Alexander said dully. “He was a kid, that’s what kids do -- not listen. Kids never thinks about kids dying. Maybe it would’ve forced him to reflect, maybe not. There’s only so much you can do before … before you gotta move on.”

“How could I? He’s my brother.” he said. 

“I know, I know.” He splayed his fingers against his stomach. “I feel you about fucking up. I’m never tired because I  _ can’t _ be. There’s always something I need to do. A paper to write, a test to study for, a war to win. I talked to the General about it a bit. He told me that it’s brave to live despite everything. Means you’re fighting. I want you to know that. It’s … honorable to live.”

John didn’t answer at first. After the silence started to get awkward, he asked, “Is this where you tell me a mosquito really did kill your dog?”

“No.” Alexander said. He was very near making up some lighthearted story, but John had laid his heart out to him; it wouldn’t be fair not to reciprocate. “It’s where I tell you a mosquito killed my mother.”

“Oh, God, Alex, I am sorry! I was being insensitive -- ” John sounded mortified.

“It’s fine. It was years ago, and you didn’t know.” Alexander ran his hands up his abdomen and pressed his index finger down, just below the breast. It really wasn’t fine, but John meant no  harm. “We both got sick. There were a lot of mosquitos that year. Did you know that only the females bite? They use the blood to feed their young, so I suppose they’re just trying to survive. Well, so am I.

“We got malaria. I can’t put it into words. It was cold, all the time, and metal burned. Rain burned. My mother died, and I probably still have them, right here.” He took John’s hand and rested it right over his liver. “Mosquitos are shitty.”

It wasn’t as detailed as John’s story, but if he went into more he thought he’d lose control of it. He changed the topic. “Was that your first time?”

“Telling someone or being kissed?” John asked. “No. There was a boy named Francis back in Switzerland when I studied abroad. We had a nasty breakup, and I -- ” He cut off suddenly, like he’d said too much, but continued after a moment thinking it over, “I wasn’t in a good place. What about you?”

“I’ve had three girlfriends in the past year. The first one lasted the longest.” Alexander stetched out on his mat. Next to him, he felt John stiffen.

“So you can choose?” John’s voice was tight.

Alexander felt heat rush to his face. “N-no. I just always felt attracted to both. Girls and boys. You aren’t the only boy or anything.”

“Oh.” Hesitantly, John rolled over. “If you go to sleep, I’ll give you my answer in the morning.”

 

The following morning, they walked a short way from camp to relieve themselves. 

On the way back, John let Alexander lean into him. He sighed. “Okay. So we’re doing this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laurens was three months older than Hamilton.
> 
> Hamilton had kidney problems. See notes at the end of Unrest Ch2 for details on that.
> 
> It was against the law to be gay in the U.S. Army at this time.


	3. Eliza

Alexander fumed as he marched down the sidewalk toward Kitty’s house. “He could have at least told me he was married. Wouldn’t have -- ”

He broke off and wiped his eyes. Kitty’s house was just a little ways ahead. She’d know what to do. He really hoped she didn’t have her boyfriend over. Will hated Alex and was convinced he had plans to “steal” Kitty. The feeling was mutual.

Alexander always felt a little self-conscious when he visited Kitty. She lived in a rich neighborhood, and he couldn’t afford nice clothes, so he usually ended up walking past all the big houses with their obsessively neat gardens in a hoodie and jeans. He was positive her neighbors were judging him.

Kitty’s was the most modest one on the block, with only one story, a bathroom and kitchen, and she used the spare bedroom as her art gallery. He knocked on the door.

She opened it almost immediately. “Alex! What are you doing here -- " she cut off when she registered his bloodshot eyes " -- Oh, honey, come in.”

Kitty grabbed him and dragged him into the living room and sat him down on the couch. “Okay, what’s up?”

“You remember John?” he asked.

She nodded. “Your boyfriend, yeah. What’d the little bastard do? I’ll go over there right now if you want and punch him. Oh, or is he in trouble? Did his dad find out about you two? ‘Cause I’ll go to South Carolina -- ”

“Kit, no, his dad didn’t find out.” His eyes were burning again. “He’s _married_ with a kid. She lives in England. There was a letter and a picture.”

She furrowed her brow in thought. “Have you talked to him about this? Maybe you misunderstood something. I mean, he might be divorced or something.”

“He said so himself,” Alex moaned. “They’re definitely still married.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” she asked gently.

“I found a letter addressed to him from a woman named Martha Laurens in London. He has a sister of the same name, so I assumed it was her. I called Laurens into the room to hand him the letter, and there was a picture of a little girl. And nothing made sense because the letter called her his daughter, so I asked him and he was all ‘she’s my wife.’ I should have let him explained but it was like _woah_ and we both said some hurtful things to each other, and then I left to see you.” He leaned his head against her shoulder. “It’s like, the kid had to be eight or nine, so he’s kept this shit from me for almost a _decade._ A fucking decade.”

Kitty hugged him tightly. “It’s normal to have relationship problems, but -- excuse me for saying this -- damn. This is something else.” She kept ahold of him. “So, Alex. Are you and John still a thing?”

“Considering the last exchange we had was me flipping him the bird and him calling me self-absorbed, I don’t know,” Alexander said. “I want to, you know, talk to him before I make any big decisions. I need time to cool off.”

“Got it.” She grinned deviously. “How ‘bout a party? You love parties, and my friend Angelica is hosting a Valentine’s Day dance. I’m going, but Will bailed. What do ya say?”

  
“In this?” He laughed and gestured to his gross hoodie. “I’d die of embarrassment. This isn’t high-society attire.”

“Well, say ‘bibbity-bobbity-boo’ and call me your fairy godmother, because I’ve got clothes that should fit you somewhere in the ex-boyfriend stockpile.” She jumped off the couch and drug him along. “Come on, now! Let’s get you presentable.”

 

* * *

 

Eliza was trying to have fun, but she had difficulty flirting. It just wasn’t something she’d ever done before, and she had no clue where to begin. Should she play it coy or be straightforward? Did she initiate the kiss, or wait for him? What if he just wasn’t interested? She didn’t like being a wallflower, but she saw no way around it. She had waited too long to be confident, hadn’t learned the right skills, and now if she tried she’d just make a fool of herself. She should go home.

Angelica floated over to her and smiled. Her first pregnancy was just barely showing and was clearly drinking water to avoid harming the baby. Mr Church was somewhere unseen. “So, sissy, anyone caught your eye?”

She was prepared to say no, but did an obligatory sweep of the room and locked her vision on a black man wearing nice jeans and a light pink button-up talking amiably to Kitty. He wasn’t much taller than Eliza, but his eyes were gorgeous. “What about him -- is he unattached?”

Angelica narrowed her eyes a bit. “Huh, I don’t know. I’ve never met him before -- he must be one of Kitty’s friends. Hang on, I’ll ask her. If he’s got no special lady, would you like me to send him over?”

“Please.” Eliza ducked her head to hide her grin. _Don’t get so excited, Eliza. He might have a girlfriend. Or might not be interesting or kind, or he might not even like you._

Angelica smiled and patted her on the cheek. “I’ll be back.”

She walked confidently over to Kitty and the man and said something that made both of them laugh. Eliza felt a little hopeful, but also embarrassed that at twenty-five, she still needed Angelica to talk to people for her. Then Angelica asked a question, and she strained to hear. She was asking if he had a special lady, and he squirmed a bit, then shook his head. Angelica grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over. He seemed a bit startled, but then smiled and allowed himself to be dragged across the room.

“This is my sister, Eliza. She’s studying to be a social worker,” Angelica introduced proudly. “And she volunteers at the women’s shelter.”

He bowed his head and said, “A pleasure to meet you, Eliza. Alexander Hamilton, at your service.”

“It’s good to meet you, as well … ” _Shit, what do I call him? Is “Alexander” too formal, or would calling him “Alex” be presumptuous? Mr Hamilton would make it sound like he’s old. Shit._

He grinned. “Alex is fine if you’re worried. If you’re uncomfortable with that, you can use my last name too. In the army, the rest of my unit called me Ham.”

“Oh, where did you serve, Alex?” She grasped at the conversation thread.

“Lebanon in ‘81 and ‘82, and I just returned from Panama last month,” he said.

“Well, thank you for your service,” she said.

He blushed slightly. “If you thank me for mine, I suppose I should thank you for yours. It’s good work you do, with the women’s shelter. You’re saving lives.”

It was a bit patronising, the way he said it, but he meant it sincerely. At least he didn't call her cute. And this was familiar territory for her -- she knew her field well. “Thank you. That’s exactly what I aim to do. The system fails these women too often, and when they ask for help, they get spurned for ever having needed it. It’s not right.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “Everyone needs help from time to time.”

Angelica reluctantly made her exit. “Enjoy the party, you two.”

Eliza waved goodbye and mouthed “thanks” when Alex wasn’t looking. “Alex, what do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer. I’ve got my own practice on Broadway.” He puffed his chest out proudly.

She wasn’t sure what to say next. Maybe if she had something to drink, it would loosen her up. It certainly worked for her brothers, so why shouldn’t she give it a try? “Alex, do you think we could get some drinks?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He stumbled over his response and looked upset. “If you would like.”

She wondered if she had done something wrong, but he offered his arm and she took it. She felt silly -- this was the twentieth century, not the eighteenth.

They met Angelica at the drinks table, talking to her husband, Barker. She smiled and waved to them. “Eliza, Alex! Come over here a moment.” She introduced her husband to Alex. “This is my husband, John Barker Church. I told him a bit about you, and he says he would love to speak with you later about becoming a legal consultant for his business.”

“Thank you,” he enthused. Eliza tried not to laugh at his less-than-pleased expression.

“After the party, of course,” Angelica offered. She handed them two glasses of some fancy brand of whisky that Barker was fond of. “It’s good, I promise.”

Alex excepted his glass uneasily, but one glance at her sister’s expectant face and he guiltily took a sip and tried to cover his cough. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t drink much.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Angelica assured him. “Now, off you go. Dance, wander, socialise. Go on!”

 

Eliza found that Alex was, well, _susceptible_ to alcohol, and became a great deal more flirtatious with it in his system. He flirted with everyone, much to Eliza's discomfort. The two of them danced for a while before she requested a walk through the garden in the back. It was chilly out, and Eliza mentally scolded herself for not grabbing her coat on their way out the door. Alex had remembered to grab his own jacket, a light blue windbreaker, and she tried not to be jealous as she shivered. Then she felt him release her arm and turned to look at him.

His cheeks were flushed and he was clearly tipsy. He took his jacket off and rested it on her shoulders. “You look like you’re cold.”

“Thanks.” She ducked her head and smiled, feeling the effects of the alcohol. “So, how do you know Kitty?”

“We dated for a while when I first moved to New York,” he said. “That was, um, like, almost nine years ago, though. Now we’re really good friends -- I’d say sister, but, uh, after … y’know, that’d be pretty gross. Shit, uh, you don’t want to hear this.”

He was right. She didn't want to hear about him and other girls but wasn't sure how to say so. “Maybe we should change the subject.”

“Yeah.” He grinned sheepishly. “What -- what made you get into social work?”

She shrugged. Her thoughts were clear a moment ago, but now that she tried to focus they became blurry. She spoke slowly and carefully, “I don’t know. I guess as a kid, I always felt kind of neglected. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, and I know they love me, but … ” Her mind was hazy, and while part of her knew she was oversharing, her brain couldn’t catch up with her mouth. “But between all my brothers and sisters -- I’ve got, like, four sisters and three brothers -- my parents, they didn’t really have time for me. I was the quiet one and it was, like, they assumed I didn’t need or want the attention.” She felt a few tears roll down her cheeks, and in her drunken state, she couldn’t bring herself to care. “I _do_ want it, though, you know? I don’t need all of it, but if they would just notice me now and then, I’d be happy. Now I don’t mind so much anymore. I guess I’m happy working at the shelter. I’m saving lives and that’s important, so I can live with and be happy, but sometimes I don’t want that. It sounds stupid, I know.”

Eliza wasn’t sure when he’d pulled her into a hug, but his arms were around her. They were about the same height, so her chin was resting on his shoulder and she could feel his breath against her neck. “You don’t sound stupid. You sound lonely. I know.”

Tentatively, she freed her arms and hugged him back, sniffling. “I’m not always like this.”

“I know. Me neither.”

“Sometimes, though,” she said, “it’s like I’m invisible. I want people to see me.”

“I know.” His breath smelled boozy. She didn’t like that. “That’s why I write. You have to make them see you. Be impossible to ignore.”

Eliza leant back. His eyes were very dark.

He tasted like whisky, and that bothered her, too. She didn’t want him to leave and wake up in the morning and forget her. Alex was smart and funny and she had a good time, and if he forgot her, she didn’t think she could take it. It also reminded her that she’d been drinking.

Alex suddenly pulled back, blushing and apologetic. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m drunk. You’re drunk. And, shit, shit, shit, I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

The look in his eyes made her heart sinking. “There is another girl, after all.”

“No. Well. Not the way you think. It’s complicated.” Now that he was speaking fast, his words were slurring. “I’ve got a boyfriend. We fought earlier.”

She shifted on her feet while she processed that.

Peggy was a lesbian. She loved her sister.

She’d gone to church for twenty-five years and had been told that was wrong.

Maybe she questioned it, but Dad said the same thing every night for years. Dad loved Peggy, he said, but he didn’t like her life choices. Peggy got mad and told him it wasn’t a choice.

Alex had kissed her, but he had a boyfriend. Did this mean it was a choice?

If Dad was right if it was a choice, and it was wrong, what did that say about Alex, about Peggy?

“You’re gay?” Maybe he just pitied her, and now he regretted it. A familiar feeling of uncertainty knotted in the pit of her stomach. The world began to spin.

Alex was speaking again. She tried to listen, but he sounded very far away. “I’m bisexual … don’t know if John and I will work out … can’t just leave … been together for a long time.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she managed, wondering what she was saying. She wasn’t even sure she didn’t mind that he was gay.

“Oh, please don’t. You’re drunk.” He shook his head. “You aren’t in a -- a good state of mind. Neither am I. I need to get home. So -- so do you. Come on, back to the house.”

Eliza barely made it to the bathroom with Angelica before she threw up.

 

* * *

 

 

Alexander woke up with a pounding headache on Kitty’s sofa. Worse, he remembered the night’s events. He felt like shit: this was exactly what he’d gone nuclear on John for. He wasn’t looking forward to going home anytime soon.

Kitty came in with a plate of eggs and sat down on the reclining chair. She set the plate on the coffee table next to a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. “You don’t take well to alcohol, do you? I only saw you drink a glass unless you drank more when I wasn’t watching.”

“No,” he groaned. “And I’m never doing that again.”

“Drink some water, take an aspirin -- just one, they’re very strong -- and eat some breakfast. I ate earlier.” Her voice turned stern. “Why did you drink when you knew you couldn’t handle it? If I wasn’t there, how would you have gotten home? You could’ve gotten hurt. Thought it would teach John a lesson, didn’t you?”

“Not like that.” He sat up and took an aspirin pitifully. “Didn’t want to look stupid. ‘M twenty-seven and I’ve hardly even had a beer before.”

“Well, you look real stupid now,” Kitty said, exasperated. “I swear, you want to send me to an early grave. And what the hell was that with Eliza? I know I brought you there to enjoy yourself, but I didn’t mean to hook up with my best friend’s little sister! I thought you wanted to talk things out with John. I understand not telling her about John, ‘cause there might be a shitstorm if you did. Annie’s cool, but her family is, like, uber religious. When Peggy came out they threw a fucking fit. But exhibit some self-control. You’re gonna fucking destroy yourself.”

The amount of words Kitty was stringing together was overwhelming. “Her sister introduced us. I didn’t mean to kiss her, but she’s amazing and sweet. She wants to save the world and she loves kids and helps women in abusive marriages and does all this community service, and I’m like, how does she do it? I do a lot of writing, but she’s _out there_ physically making a difference.”

“You say the same things about John, honey,” she reminded him softly. “I know you have a soft spot for people like that, but you need to slow down.”

“Slow down,” he repeated.

“Yes. You need to talk to John.” Kitty patted his cheek and stood up. “You don’t have to go immediately -- in fact, I’d strongly advise you to finish sobering up first -- because I’ve already called him to let him know you’re safe.”

Alex shot her a hurt look. Wasn’t she supposed to be on his side?

“Oh, cut it out.” She playfully nudged his ankle with her foot before becoming sombre. “I know you’re hurt, but he does love you. People do shitty things to other people, and the more you love someone, the more they can hurt you. I’m not saying forgive him, but don’t be petty, either. Now eat up.”

“Thanks, Kit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kitty's back. Historically, she's the mutual friend he met Eliza through. Angelica was married at this point but may have still had a thing for Alexander. Hamilton, according to John Adams, got drunk easily.
> 
> I know everyone loves Eliza, and normally she's portrayed as really cool with LGBTQ+ stuff, but consider this: she was VERY religious and actually refused illegitimate children at her orphanage; being gay or bi wasn't entirely accepted in the 80s/90s; she was a teenager/young adult during the AIDS crisis, so was exposed to a lot of homophobic sentiment; she is trying to please her parents, so probably hasn't really explored the idea of different sexualities; and she is a human and thus not going to be perfect. I know nobody wants to picture her as having backward beliefs, but these were common at the time and she isn't forceful enough of a personality yet to get out there and challenge her beliefs. She may come around, but she has to go through growth first. People don't change easily.  
> Finally, Alex and John are far from through, but they have to work out their problems like adults before things are okay.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
